We recently had the chance to connect with Bri Stokes and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Bri, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
I’ve been doing music production as a hobby for about four years now (and I’m usually pretty private about it!). It’s definitely a fantastic exercise in mindfulness. Time seems to unravel completely whenever I’m making music. I also find the experience to be very healing. Sinking into the architecture of a song helps me to release things I may have needlessly been holding onto, or to discover things that might have been dormant inside me.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m a writer, poet, curator and cultural worker, and I’ve been active in the arts and literary scenes here in Los Angeles for about two years now: I’ve curated a few art exhibitions, edited a few publications (such as the fourth edition of SKEW Magazine, of which I was the Managing Editor, and the forthcoming speculative poetry and fiction anthology about time, “Amorphaville”), published my debut chapbook, “A Throat Full of Forest-Dirt,” in 2023 through Bottlecap Press, and I routinely perform at poetry readings and open mics around the city. I’ve dedicated my life to both my art and the act of curating and creating stories, experiences and spaces that are BIPOC-centered and queer-friendly.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
As a trauma survivor with PTSD, the first half of my life was fraught with a really intense drive to protect myself. I was in surival mode for, essentially, the whole of my teens and 20s, sort of meandering through life with a fundamental detachment to my surroundings. I struggled to be vulnerable (both with myself and others), to trust other people, and to let my guard down with folks and show up as a more authentic iteration of myself. The idea was that—if I conformed to others’ desires and expectations, rather than allow myself to be “seen”—I would be loved and safe. Classic fawn response.
Today, at 30, I’ve arrived at a place in my healing process where I now feel like I can live my life, rather than just survive it. And with that, I’m coming to understand that the part of me that has felt both hypervigilant and disconnected from some of the fuller aspects of life can finally be at rest. I’m present, I’m open, and I’m very comfortable with myself.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
As a working artist, rejection often plays a key role in my experience. Creativity requires you to be something of an alchemist. The mindset you adopt as you navigate the terrain of your artistic life is a key component of finding stability in it.
So I’ve learned to view rejection as a space of potential growth. There’s a lot of power and strength to be gained in heartache or in loss. It forces a spotlight onto the areas of your life that may need greater attention, and opens the door for subsequent expansion and self-discovery. You could be knocked down a hundred times, but what matters is your ability to stand up a hundred times and keep going. The folks who keep going are the people who make things happen.
The way I see it—failure in the traditional, capitalistic sense doesn’t really exist. It’s all about realignment and personal growth.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. How do you differentiate between fads and real foundational shifts?
Something I’ve had to grapple with recently is this idea that maybe progress isn’t a linear march. There always seems to be a pendulum shift, and I think—because of the oppressive systems we’re all subsisting under—whenever there’s even a modicum of forward momentum for marginalized communities, those who are afraid of what that momentum means or looks like fight tooth and nail to put the metaphorical genie back into the bottle. But that doesn’t mean that society isn’t actively progressing. It means we’ve entered a period where the wound has to scab over so cultural movement can proceed. I think living through those periods is really challenging, and we all sort of hope that we won’t have to live through challenging times, but that’s also precisely why we keep fighting and showing up.
So I think fads are always tied to consumerism, or trends that are focused on acts of self-abandonment or repression rather than self-actualization and expansion. I see a lot of that within the current cultural landscape in the form of a push towards more “traditional” lifestyles and content, for example, or even a widespread normalization of bullying and passive cruelty. I just don’t see how that energy can sustain itself before eventually burning out entirely.
The constant movement (or, at times—like those we’re currently living through—fight) towards a more expansive, tolerant future is the true foundational shift that, I believe, is always in motion, even when it may not seem like it.
Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
I worry sometimes that people will mistake my optimism for ignorance. I often feel understimated by folks for similar reasons. In truth, I carry such an unshakable sense of faith because I was exposed to really traumatic circumstances at a very young age, when I should have been debilitated by them. I wasn’t. It got better. And I think, generally speaking, things usually do get better. Better circumstances may not necessarily arrive cleanly, and certainly not without diligent effort, but they will arrive, eventually, if we fight for them.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://bristokes.com
- Instagram: @bri_stokes_writes
- Other: TikTok: @bri_stokes_
Threads: @bri_stokes_writes
Substack: bristokes.substack.com
Bluesky: @bristokes.com
Image Credits
Brynn Evida
